


The Little Autobot That Could (Fly)

by raszades



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Medical Procedures, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13209138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raszades/pseuds/raszades
Summary: In an AU where the Elite Guard took his team back to Cybertron, Optimus has no choice but to help Megatron further his conquest of Detroit. A thankless job, at least up until now...





	The Little Autobot That Could (Fly)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to lones for helping (read: coming up) with the title / summary!!

Transforming hurt more than walking, so he stumbled back to base on foot. Every step sent invisible knives shooting up his feet, and he felt like he was going to trip over his legs. 

Megatron was waiting for him when he arrived. There were no words, only a lilted eyebrow as his fingers tapped on his cannon. 

Optimus knew what he wanted anyway. 

He cleared his throat. He felt like he was a cadet again, waiting to be judged before the Council. Ultra Magnus had worn the same stony expression. 

"I—" He stamped down the apology. He wasn't sorry. "They blocked the road. All the roads. I couldn't get past on foot." 

Silence. Then, "Well, if that's all, then I believe some adjustments are in order." That was the only warning that Optimus got before he was shoved to the floor and pinned down by four Decepticon-strong arms. His spark suffocated in his chest, trapped between a rock and an equally hard Decepticon. 

Snarling, he aimed a grapple, only to have it smashed into the ground by a pincer. Pain blossomed all the way up to his helm. 

He settled for glowering as Megatron made his way up to his back. "What. Kind. Of adjustments." 

Lugnut was the one who answered. "More than what you deserve, wretch! Be grateful that the glorious Megatron sees to upgrade you." 

"Upgrade?" He did not like the sound of that. "What are you—" His question screeched into a cry. Something tore across his back. Instinctively, he jerked upwards, knuckles clenched into fists. 

"Stop struggling." 

Optimus froze. The chill of the cave wisped against his now-bare cabling. 

"After all, I wouldn't want to make any errors so close to your _vital circuitry_ ." 

"How about you don't do it at all and save us all some trouble." Silent pressure weighed over his back. "I don't want it." 

"Then consider it a reward for all your dedicated service." 

A dull throb pressed against his wires, then sharpened to a needlepoint until it snapped into cold nothing. Optimus fought back a wince. Metal scraped into the copper. "Are you even—gah—qualified for this?" 

"MEGATRON'S AN ENGINEERING GENIUS AND IS GOOD AT ALL THINGS TECHNOLOGICAL. OF COURSE HE IS QUALIFIED." 

And Megatron was lecturing HIM about propaganda? "Well, just 'cause I'm a spacebridge technician doesn't mean I can troubleshoot for consoles…" 

Nobody replied, so he stopped snarking. Not like he wanted to tick off Megatron when he was buried fist-deep into his internals. 

It wasn't like it was terrible, just constant. Certainly no worse than Ratchet's tune-ups. So he sat and bore it. 

Finally, Lugnut and Blitzwing removed their vices from his arms. Megatron didn't lift his hands. Optimus sighed. "Are you done yet?" 

"One last thing." Megatron himself hooked his fingers on Optimus' shoulder, squeezing it to the floor. "Don’t move." 

"I really don't think that's going to be a prob—" painpainPAIN seared into protoform white-hot melting agony and he writhed and hissed but Megatron was still holding him so he clawed at the rocks as if the scrape scrape of fingers digging into it was enough sensation to drag the attention away. 

He didn't want to beg, but this was TORTURE. What barbarian welded someone that was fully conscious?? "I—need a break. Stop it." 

He could practically feel the smirk smeared across Megatron's face. "I'm sure that the mechanism responsible for my defeat can handle it." 

The weld felt like it took hours. Hours of nothing but agony as stray sparks skittered over his plating. He thrashed and cried but Megatron wouldn't even react anymore. Optimus wondered why he couldn't he just pass out. Was that too much to ask? 

He didn't even notice Megatron get off when he did, too preoccupied with the lingering sting. Megatron's feet swam in front of him, and Optimus tried gathering the frayed edges of his processor into something intelligible. Excess charge crackled through his systems. 

"Congratulations," said Megatron. 

How dare he look so smug, so satisfied? 

Optimus leapt to his feet and drew his axe in a single smooth motion, fast and surprising enough that he actually grazed the blade against Megatron's chest. Megatron grabbed him by the arm as he finished the swing, pulling away the axe and hoisting him over his shoulder. 

Megatron carried him over to an entrance, where the mine opened up to an outcrop over rushing water outside. "Turn on your sirens." 

"What?" 

He chucked Optimus off the cliff. 

In a pinch, base instincts beat orders (especially Megatron orders) any day. Optimus hooked a grapple onto the cliffside, only for Megatron to kick it back down. 

Optimus yelped. He was falling, falling—Megatron had told him to turn on his sirens? Well. He'd probably shoot the grapples if he tried again, so sirens it was then. 

They didn't flash or blare but suddenly he was pushing through the air unbidden, wind whipping his antennae, spark hiccuping in his chest— 

He smashed into the cliffside. Dust choked his vents. A hairline fracture cobwebbed across an optic. He looked behind him and flinched at the unexpected wall of black. …Wings? On his back? 

"According to all known laws of aviation, an Autobot should not be able to fly." Blitzwing dug him out of the rock, only to toss him back into free-fall. 

Optimus crashed at least two more times before figuring out how to turn, at which point Lugnut and Blitzwing started to pelt rocks at him. 

Top Decepticon lesson plans: learn to steer or get slammed in the face with hard objects. It worked, though with no small injury on his part. Call it what you want, at least Autobot training didn't leave you a ragged mess. 

Megatron only watched, face impassive, optics drilling into Optimus' back. Couldn't he at least look smug? Something? Anything? 

Not that he wanted to impress Megatron or anything. That would open up a whole other pack of viruses that he really didn't feel like dealing with at the moment. 

Eventually, Megatron seemed satisfied enough to call him back in to get his dents banged out. His plating was scuffed, paint chipped at the edges, but he wasn't about to ask for any more. He felt like a drowned rat. 

"Do you like my gift?" Megatron squeezed one of the jetpack wings. 

There weren't any sensors there. He couldn't feel it. He huffed. 

Megatron laughed. It was a hollow, chilling sound. "Don't worry. In time, you will come to appreciate it." 


End file.
